The door to your boss’s office was locked, the blinds drawn. She sat back in her big leather chair, legs spread wide, skirt bunched up around her hips and panties dangling from one heel.
You were on your knees between her thighs, face buried in her soaked pussy like you belonged there.
“That’s it, good girl,” she purred, voice low and sweet as her hand rested gently on the back of your head. “Eat Mommy’s pussy just like that.”
You moaned against her, tongue sliding deep inside her before flicking over her swollen clit. She tasted so good — sweet and addictive. You licked and sucked eagerly, nose pressed against her mound as you devoured her.
She let out a soft, breathy moan and rolled her hips forward, grinding her wet pussy against your face. You whimpered, instinctively humping the air as you pleasured her, your own soaked panties rubbing against nothing while you focused entirely on making her feel good.
“Such a good girl for Mommy,” she cooed, guiding your head with a gentle but firm hand. “Look at you… on your knees in my office, tongue buried in my cunt like the perfect little employee.”
You moaned louder, sucking harder on her clit as she rode your face. Her thighs started trembling around your head, her breathing growing ragged.
“Don’t stop, baby,” she gasped, grinding faster. “Make Mommy cum on that pretty tongue.”
You doubled your efforts, licking and sucking until her back arched and she came with a low, shuddering moan, flooding your mouth with her release. You kept licking her gently through it, cleaning every drop while she stroked your head softly.
When she finally caught her breath, she looked down at you with a satisfied, possessive smile, thumb brushing over your wet lips.
You woke up in the world of TWD, and you fought so hard to not change the plot of the show, to not get too close— afraid that you'll end up with more losses than not. However, the more time you spend with them, interact with them, laugh and smile with them.. You realize that you're slowly getting attached to every single one of them.
Still, you try not to socialize much, because you don't want to get hurt when a character dies. But.. People is real stubborn.
00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 010.
011, 012, 013, 014, 015, 016, 017, 018, 019, 020.
021, 022, 023, 024, 025, 026, 027, 028, 029, 030.
031, 032, 033, 034, 035, 036, 037, 038, 039, 040.
The story will be updated every other day, but a new chapter may come twice a day depending on how the day goes so far. Just keep an eye out. :D
Take note that the story will have enough divergence to still be canon compliant, and unfortunately, this may have an x reader tag on it, but the story isn't that focused on romance. There are no definite endgame for the reader yet, but I'm broadening the possibilities on whom you will end up with.
Synopsis: Waking up in one of your favorite shows is a dream come true— even if there are zombies everywhere. Hey, at least they don’t seem to notice you AND you found an old Walkman with a ton of tapes!
WC: 4.0k
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By the time the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, you had developed a reluctant rhythm.
The herd moved.
You followed.
Part of it was practical. The walkers moved with surprising consistency, and keeping track of them was easier when you weren’t constantly lagging behind. The other part was something that you were considerably less eager to acknowledge.
Curiosity.
You were terrified of the walkers— that much hadn’t changed.
Every instinct still recoiled at the sight of them. Years of consuming zombie-based media and basic common sense had thoroughly convinced you that standing anywhere near the undead was a bad idea.
However, the longer they ignored you, the more difficult it became to sustain that fear at its original intensity.
Only a few hours ago, you had been convinced that getting within twenty feet of a walker meant death. Now you found yourself walking close enough to distinguish individual faces.
It was a little concerning just how quickly you’d adapted to this… condition of yours.
You kept expecting your courage to fail. Every time you drifted a little nearer to the herd, your body tensed in anticipation of disaster. Yet the disaster never came.
The walkers just kept moving forward.
Eventually, you found yourself matching pace with one of them.
The corpse was an older man, or at least it had been at one point. Wisps of white hair still clung stubbornly to his scalp. A faded plaid shirt hung loosely from his frame, stained with dirt and other things you didn’t want to think too hard on. One sleeve had been torn away completely, revealing a skeletal arm mottled with decay.
You couldn’t stop staring.
On television, walkers always seemed interchangeable. Up close, individual details emerged.
This man had once chosen that shirt.
Someone had probably bought it for him— a wife or a child, maybe.
Someone had known his name.
The thought settled like a stone in your chest.
Your gaze drifted to another walker nearby. This one appeared much younger. A woman in what looked like a nurse’s uniform shuffled through the grass some yards away. The fabric was soiled beyond recognition, but fragments of a hospital logo remained visible near the collar.
You wondered if she had worked during the outbreak, whether she’d stayed behind trying to help people.
Whether she had family somewhere.
The questions came too easily and none of them had answers.
For the first time since arriving in this world, you found yourself studying the walkers for reasons unrelated to survival.
One limped badly on a ruined leg.
Another dragged a foot behind him.
A little girl wandered near the center of the herd clutching a filthy stuffed rabbit against her chest.
You looked away immediately.
All the knowledge in the world couldn’t have prepared you for this. These weren’t props covered in makeup, or people excited to be in the background of their favorite show.
They were the remains of human beings whose lives had ended in one of the worst ways imaginable.
As the herd reached the outskirts of a neighborhood, the sun had reached its final destination.
The light had softened considerably since the brutal heat of midday, painting the landscape in warm shades of gold and amber. Long shadows stretched across the ground, weaving between the walkers as they continued their steady march forward.
You found yourself paralleling them without consciously meaning to.
At some point, the herd had stopped feeling like an immediate threat and started feeling like a strange sort of constant. They were still unsettling to look at, and the smell lingered in the air whenever the wind shifted. Every now and then, you would catch sight of an especially gruesome injury and have to force yourself not to stare.
And yet…
There was something oddly reassuring in their proximity.
There was no arguing, or demands made, or questions asked.
They simply moved.
Hour after hour, they shuffled onward with the same mindless determination, and after spending most of the day among them, you had begun adjusting to their presence.
It was something that probably should have alarmed you more than it did.
You walked alongside a woman who had likely been in her forties before her death. Most of her dark hair had fallen out, leaving uneven patches across her scalp, and the floral pattern on her dress had long since faded beneath layers of dirt and weathering.
She didn’t acknowledge you.
You wondered if that would ever stop feeling strange.
Your gaze drifted ahead as the neighborhood came into view.
Rows of houses emerged beyond the trees, their rooftops visible above overgrown hedges and neglected lawns. Even from a distance, the place carried the familiar appearance of suburban America. Mailboxes stood beside cracked sidewalks, driveways stretched toward garages, tall trees lined the streets.
The sight stirred something unexpectedly painful in your chest.
They reminded you of home.
Not because they looked exactly like your own neighborhood, but because they belonged to the same world. The same civilization. The same life that had existed before everything fell apart.
The herd drifted into the neighborhood without hesitation.
Walkers spilled across the streets and sidewalks like a slow-moving river, weaving around abandoned vehicles and overgrown yards. A rusted bicycle lay forgotten near a driveway. One house still displayed the remnants of holiday decorations that had somehow survived months of exposure to the elements.
Your stomach growled.
The sound startled you enough that you glanced downward.
Right, food.
You hadn’t eaten since arriving in this world, and your body was beginning to remind you of that fact with increasing urgency. Your throat remained dry and your muscles still ached from earlier. The initial surge of panic and adrenaline had faded hours ago, leaving behind a very tired, very hungry human being.
The houses surrounding you suddenly seemed far more interesting.
Some had broken windows while others appeared untouched. A few still had vehicles parked neatly in their driveways, as though the owners might return at any moment.
The sight sparked a thought.
If the herd had been moving through this area regularly— or even if large groups of walkers simply wandered nearby— then many survivors would likely avoid the neighborhood entirely.
The risk just wouldn’t be worth it.
Clearing a house was one thing— clearing a house while multiple walkers roamed the surrounding streets was something else entirely.
For the first time all day, genuine hope lightened your frame.
If you were right, there might still be supplies here. Food, medicine, water. The possibilities seemed almost too good to believe.
Your steps slowed as the herd continued onward.
Immediately, a surprising feeling tugged at your heart.
Reluctance.
The emotion caught you completely off guard. Objectively speaking, you should have been thrilled to leave.
You had spent damn near the entire day surrounded by flesh-eating monsters! Normal people did not become attached to zombie herds!
Yet as you watched them continue down the street, you felt a faint sense of unease.
The herd had become familiar— safe.
At least, as safe as anything in this world could be.
Leaving meant stepping back into uncertainty. Leaving meant being alone again.
You paused before laughing softly.
Nope, you weren’t going to think about it. If you didn’t acknowledge the sinking feeling in your gut, it didn’t exist.
Food first, mental breakdown later.
Drawing in a steadying breath, you stepped away from the herd and crossed the street.
The neighborhood lacked the obvious signs of repeated scavenging. There were no doors hanging from hinges, no smashed-in walls— no evidence that desperate survivors had stripped the houses bare.
Hope fluttered in your chest again.
Carefully, you made your way up the driveway of the nearest home.
The house itself was modest but charming. It was painted a soft shade of blue that reminded you of the sky on a sunny day. Flower beds bordered the front walkway, now overgrown with weeds and wild grass. A wooden rocking chair sat abandoned on the porch.
You lightly trailed your hand against the armrest of the chair, swallowing thickly as you did so.
Someone had once considered this place home.
You forced yourself to keep moving. You reached the front door and grabbed the bronze doorknob with a shaky grip.
The front door stood unlocked.
That fact alone told a story.
You couldn’t imagine leaving your house unlocked under normal circumstances. Whatever had happened here had happened quickly. The owners had likely rushed out with only the things they could carry, fully expecting to return once the emergency ended.
Nobody had returned.
The interior was quiet as you crossed the threshold of the house. Not eerie, exactly. Just empty.
Dust coated the interior in a thin gray layer. Sunlight filtered through the windows, illuminating tiny particles that drifted lazily through the air. Family photographs decorated the walls of the hallway, smiling faces frozen in moments of happiness that felt impossibly distant now.
The pictures made this harder.
It was easier to think of abandoned houses as resources.
It was much harder when confronted with evidence that real people had once lived inside them.
The kitchen became your first target.
Mostly because food was your immediate priority, but also because focusing on a practical task prevented you from dwelling on everything else.
You gently pried the door to the pantry open and froze, your mouth falling open in shock.
The shelves were still stocked.
Rows of canned vegetables sat neatly arranged beside boxed pasta and bags of rice. Soup cans occupied an entire shelf. Crackers, peanut butter, oatmeal, and various other non-perishables remained untouched.
A smile stretched across your face before you could stop it.
“Oh my god.”
Relief washed over you so suddenly that your knees nearly gave out.
You had prepared yourself to find scraps, a few overlooked items. Maybe enough food to survive a day or two if you were lucky.
Instead, you were looking at enough supplies to last for weeks.
‘No sane survivor would willingly search houses surrounded by walker herds.’
For the first time all day, you found yourself genuinely appreciating your absurd decision.
Following the herd had actually worked.
You quickly began removing items from the pantry, placing them in neat piles across the kitchen counter. Cans went together. Boxes went together. Anything remotely useful was carefully sorted into groups.
It wasn’t until you’d accumulated an impressive mountain of supplies that a new problem occurred to you.
You had absolutely no way of carrying any of it.
You stared at the collection.
The collection stared back.
A loud groan reverberated from the back of your throat. You dragged a hand down your face, your eyebrows pinching together in frustration.
Of course it couldn’t be that easy.
Leaving the food behind felt physically painful, but there was little point gathering supplies if you couldn’t transport them.
You stepped away from the kitchen and began searching the house.
The living room yielded little beyond dusty furniture and more reminders that people had once lived here. A blanket remained draped over the arm of a recliner. A few books rested on a side table beside a pair of reading glasses.
You hurried past both.
The hallways led to four rooms. You chose the first one and stepped in.
The bed remained neatly made. Family photographs occupied the dresser. Sunlight spilled across the carpet through partially opened curtains.
For a moment, you just stood there.
There was something uniquely unsettling about bedrooms. More than every other room in a house, they felt personal. You pushed the discomfort aside and began checking the room.
It didn’t take long for you to find what you were looking for.
Tucked near the back of the closet sat a large duffel bag.
The bag looked sturdy enough to carry a significant amount of weight. It was larger than anything you could have hoped to find.
You unzipped it and discovered a collection of colorful envelopes, folded paper decorations, and greeting cards stacked neatly inside.
For a moment, confusion replaced your excitement.
Then understanding followed.
Birthday cards.
Years worth of them, judging by the quantity.
You could have read them but you quickly squashed down the thought. Taking the bag already felt uncomfortable enough. Reading the cards would be crossing a line.
Carefully, you removed the contents and placed them in a tidy stack on a nearby shelf. You avoided looking too closely at the writing. A few colorful envelopes slipped loose during the process, revealing fragments of cheerful handwriting and cute stickers.
You ignored them.
Some things weren’t yours.
The cards remained where you left them as a monument to people you would never know.
Once the bag was finally empty, you slung it over your shoulder and headed back toward the kitchen.
As you began carefully packing the cans and boxes into the duffel, a reluctant thought surfaced.
Maybe following the herd hadn’t been the worst decision you’d ever made.
————————————————
Your shoulder was beginning to ache from the weight of the duffel bag.
The discomfort was worth it, though.
The bag was stuffed with canned food, bottled water, batteries, flashlights, spare clothes, and enough miscellaneous supplies to make you feel almost optimistic. Considering you’d arrived in this world with absolutely nothing, the transformation felt borderline miraculous.
You’d already searched most of the houses.
The first had been terrifying.
The second had been awkward.
By the third, you’d accidentally started developing a system.
Kitchen first, medicine second, anything useful afterward.
Somewhere around house number five, you had also realized you’d begun talking to yourself.
Quite a lot, actually.
The discovery had been prompted by a walker wearing a wedding ring.
You’d spotted it while crossing a driveway and spent nearly ten minutes wondering about the person’s life before abruptly catching yourself speaking your theories out loud.
The walker hadn’t cared.
At one point, you’d even found yourself walking alongside a woman in a tattered yellow cardigan while discussing the merits of canned ravioli.
She didn’t respond, obviously, but you’d like to think she agreed with you.
The house at the end of the street finally drew your attention away from your silent walking companion. You bid a quick farewell, to which she only groaned. Rude.
The house sat slightly apart from the others, partially hidden behind a collection of mature oak trees whose branches stretched over the roof like protective arms. The yard was overgrown, but less so than some of the neighboring properties. Ivy climbed one side of the house, softening the structures edges and making it feel oddly secluded.
Something about the place tugged at your memory. For a few seconds, you stood in the driveway trying to place it.
Then you shrugged.
You’d spent years watching The Walking Dead. You were beginning to suspect that half the state of Georgia felt familiar now.
The front door was locked.
The discovery should not have been surprising, yet it frustrated you all the same.
You rattled the knob one last time before stepping back with a sigh. The windows proved no more cooperative. Whoever had lived here had made damn sure the place was locked tight before they left.
Alright then.
Improv has always been one of your strong suits.
Your gaze drifted toward one of the decorative rocks lining the porch, already weighing whether it was worth sacrificing a window, when something else caught your eye.
A squat little stone frog sat beside the front steps, grinning at you with the vacant optimism only lawn ornaments seem capable of.
Well… it couldn’t hurt to try.
You crouched and lifted the statue.
Sure enough, tucked neatly beneath its stony ass sat a small brass key.
Thank god for cliches!
Sliding the frog aside, you snatched up the key and returned to the front door. It slipped into the lock with an almost disappointingly soft ‘click’.
And just like that, you’re in.
The door creaked open as you peeked your head inside.
Two walkers occupy the foyer. Neither seemed particularly interested in you. They barely spared you a glance before returning to… whatever it was walkers did when they weren’t trying to eat somebody.
Fine by you.
You let them to whatever depressing hobby occupied the undead and headed straight for the kitchen.
Throwing open the pantry door, you fully expected to find shelves lined with canned food like the rest of the neighborhood.
Instead, a pair of spiders and several enthusiastic dust bunnies greet you.
The spiders scattered as you stared into the empty pantry, thoroughly betrayed.
“Guess I got too cocky…”
With a sigh, you shut the pantry and started opening cupboards instead. No matter, surely there had to be—
A single can of dog food on the shelf.
It somehow managed to look smug.
Huh.
Alright, so the kitchen is a bust. Go figure.
You trudged back through the foyer, brushing past the walkers with an exaggerated groan when one of them happened to turn its head in your direction.
“Oh, don’t start!”
Couldn’t they see you were in the middle of a crisis?! Who knew when you’d stumble across another neighborhood this untouched?
Your footsteps echoed through the house as your search continued, each room somehow more disappointing than the last. By the time you climbed the stairs, your patience had all but vanished.
The second floor wasn’t any better than the first!
Bedroom, bathroom, closet— all useless!
Finally, you stopped in the doorway of what looked like a teenagers bedroom, your foot tapping impatiently against the hardwood floor.
Band posters plastered nearly every inch of the walls. Some you vaguely recognized, but most you didn’t.
None of them held your attention for long.
No…
What caught your eye was the bulky old computer sitting on the desk beneath the window.
Your eyes lit up.
The thing was practically a museum exhibit! It still had the giant monitor box and everything!
You wandered over, looking it over with open curiosity. A tape-recorder sat precariously on the edge of the desk, while the keyboard was surrounded by multiple cassette tapes. A few had handwritten labels, but most were left blank.
You picked one up.
Across the faded strip of masking tape, someone had scribbled:
‘Pops Mix :P’
A smile tugged at your lips.
Your dad used to ramble for ages about how much of a pain making mixtapes had been back in the day. Sitting by the radio for hours, finger hovering over the record button, praying the DJ wouldn’t start talking halfway through the song…
So for some moody teenager to make one for their dad…
They must’ve been close.
Carefully, you set the cassette back on the desk before sifting through the others. The labeled tapes followed much the same pattern— Mom’s Road Trip Mix, Summer Songs, a few dedicated entirely to individual bands.
A whistle pushed past your pursed lips as you took it all in. This kid had been obsessed with music.
Then something else caught your eye.
Nestled innocently among the chaos sat a Walkman
A delighted squeal escaped before you could stop it.
You knew what a Walkman was, of course, but only because your dad had brought his old one out for you to gawk at. They’d gone out of style before you were even born!
You snatched it up like you’d just discovered buried treasure.
A pair of worn headphones was already plugged into it. You settled them over your ears, then spent the next minute squinting at the buttons with growing determination.
“C’mon…”
The thing couldn’t be that complicated!
Eventually, stubbornness won out and you pressed Play.
For one long, agonizing moment… nothing.
Then the cassette whirred to life and the blessed sound of music flooded your ears.
Your eyes widened when the song was something you knew.
“… The Wanderer?”
You’d know that song anywhere!
Sure, it was decades older than you were, but after sinking an embarrassing number of hours into Fallout 4, hearing it felt strangely… comforting.
The familiar tune washes over you, filling a silence you hadn’t noticed until now. Ever since you found yourself stranded in this nightmare of a universe, there had been no music.
Just groaning walkers.
You hadn’t realized how much you missed it.
By the time the chorus rolled around, there was an undeniable spring in your step.
You gathered up the remaining cassettes, carefully slipping every labeled one into your duffel bag.
Your hand hovered over ‘Pops Mix :P’.
Would taking that one be crossing a line? You didn’t take the letters from the other house, why should this be any different?
You stared at it for a few quiet seconds before sighing and picking it up anyway. These tapes had been made with love. Leaving them here to gather dust— or worse, rot away with the house— felt like the greater tragedy.
Once the cassettes were safely tucked away, you turned your attention to the rest of the room.
The closet was stocked with graphic tees and faded band shirts, but one in particular caught your eye.
A nearly pristine Transformers T-shirt.
You couldn’t help but grin.
The Walking Dead never nailed down an exact year for the outbreak, but most fans agreed it kicked off sometime around 2010. If that theory held true…
The first couple of Michael Bay’s Transformers movies would have already been out.
Across the black cotton, Bumblebee posed triumphantly in bright yellow. Childlike glee fills your form as you grab the shirt. Little you would have killed for a shirt like this!
“I’m just gonna… take this.”
Your voice filled the empty room, but it’s not like you were expecting an answer. Still, your next words come out all the same.
“Thank you.”
It felt silly talking to an empty house, even sillier thanking people who were almost certainly dead.
Still…
You hopes they would’ve understood.
Setting your duffel bag onto the floor, you peeled off your sweat-soaked shirt with a grimace. It clung stubbornly to your skin before finally coming free.
You send a silent ‘thank you’ to every god that you can think of that you decided to wear a sports bra instead of going commando.
The clean shirt slipped over your head a moment later, and you practically sighed in relief as fresh cotton settled against your skin. It wasn’t just cleaner, it felt… normal.
For a few precious seconds, you could almost pretend you weren’t scavenging through the apocalypse.
You clipped the Walkman onto the waistband of your jeans, settled the headphones over your ears once more, and slung your duffel bag back across your shoulder.
One room left.
You nudged open the door— and immediately stumbled back with a startled yelp.
A massive owl stared back at you, its golden eyes never blinking.
“Oh.”
Your heartbeat slowly drifted back down from your throat.
The owl remained perfectly still, save for a slight puff of its feathers that managed to convey mild irritation.
“…sorry.”
You couldn’t help yourself.
Owls had been one of your favorite animals ever since third grade. You still remembered sitting cross-legged on the classroom carpet while your teacher explained how silently they could fly. Eight-year-old you had been completely obsessed.
Standing only a few feet away from one now felt…
Weirdly familiar.
Like there was something important sitting just beyond the edge of your memory. A frown tugged at your lips.
Slowly, you raised your hands in a placating gesture and crouched a little lower, trying to make yourself appear as unthreatening as possible.
“Hey, buddy…”
The owl regarded you with all the enthusiasm of an exhausted customer service worker, but it didn’t fly away.
Small victories.
Music continued humming softly through your headphones as you closed the remaining distance one careful step at a time.
When you were finally close enough, you hesitated before slowly reaching out.
Your fingertips brushed impossibly soft feathers and you smiled.
The moment lasted exactly two heartbeats.
Something hard pressed into the center of your back.
Every muscle in your body locked and your breath caught in your throat.
Not a walker.
The ones downstairs would’ve been moaning long before they reached you, and if they’d somehow wandered up here, the bird would’ve caught their attention first.
This…
This was a person.
Before you could react, the headphones were ripped from your head. The music died, and a rough, gravel-worn voice spoke directly behind you.
“Stay still.”
Cold metal dug harder between your shoulder blades.
“Move…”
A beat of silence.
“And I kill you.”
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Finally bringing the main cast into play! I was going to start with Reader finding Hershel’s farm, but I got lazy and decided to just jump headfirst into season 3 😭
managing a community is tough work. when rick became the de facto leader after deanna’s passing, all that responsibility fell onto his shoulders. naturally, michonne is there to offer her leadership as well, and pick up rick’s pieces when he needs. after the devastation of the horde, rebuilding alexandria, rebuilding its people has been a grueling effort for all.
you, as a longtime alexandrian, have been inspired.
“rick! michonne!”
both tense, immediately apprehensive to their names being called so hectically. however, they settle when they turn and only see… you.
you wave them down, anxious to not miss them both before they set off on their fourth supply run this week. you’re a quieter resident. a cutie, doesn’t miss meetings but not one to volunteer, usually helping out in the pantries or something low stakes. michonne’s spoken with you a few times, you’re sweet. hearing you, rick immediately thinks so, too.
“i’d like to help out more. i know you’ve been needing people’s help with construction? o-or i can do runs, too!”
rick squints at you, mirth in his expression. michonne stares you down similarly, with a smile but eyeing you a bit quizzically. you’d hope they aren’t underestimating you, though you have a feeling that’s not it. you watch the couple share a look, something charged, before rick takes a step toward you.
“think you can help us out, honey?”
it’s patronizing. he doesn’t tower you but his step to be closer has you looking up just a bit. now behind him, michonne keeps her grin. unassuming, but her eyes are curious. when you don’t reply, she lifts her chin, a twitch of her brows questioning why you haven’t answered him yet.
“you two…” you shift on your feet and trail off, their combined gazes on you making you feel quite small. “…you two do a lot. for this place, for us. i wanna help you out just as much.”
oh, what an angel. they’ll find a way to put you to work.
“whatever you need from me.”
you’re sure you could maybe be doing more, but you’d be a liar if you said you had any problems with how you’re contributing now.
they’re overwhelming you in such a magical way. rick stretching you out on his dick, michonne keeping your legs spread for him. a few nights a week at least, you’re here. on their couch, in your bed, anywhere they can whisk you away to satisfy themselves. rick throbs inside you, soaking up every ounce of warmth from your pretty pussy. he shudders when he sinks all the way in, your moan like a melody to their ears.
“always so tight for us,” rick breathes out, lost in you. “our sweet, dumb girl. aah.. always here for us…”
“look how helpful you’re being. look at how good you’re making him feel,” michonne praises in your ear, stroking along your stomach as she does. “you’re so good. this is exactly what we need from you, baby.”
and no, you are doing enough. that’s what your lovers would tell you, whispered against your lips, pressed into crevices of your skin; a promise to you, really. to get to come back to you after all of it, their sweetheart, safe and sound here at home? why would you need to do more? you don’t need to go out and risk your life like they do for you. there’s no pretending to be all big and bad here.
“michonne… f-fuck, i can’t! rickk, please—”
“shhh, you can. you know you can.”
michonne’s fingers are soft circling your clit, in contrast to rick fucking you deeper by the second. you’re gonna cum soon and they just started. they know too, her lips up and down your neck, him grinding into his thrusts — you’re getting dumber and dumber. you’re well aware that no matter how much you whine you won’t get away. you’re meant to take it, as much or as little as they give to relieve them.
“they’re gonna cum soon.” michonne signals to rick, not at all stopping her movements. rick groans, squeezing your thigh a bit tighter feeling you pulse from her voice. “aren’t you sweetie? that’s okay. let go, sweetheart.”
“don’t stop. they can take it. so can you.” she speaks to rick now, a bit more domineering.
she locks eyes with him, his hazy, fucked out blues and sees her infatuation mirrored. rick, ever the romantic, dips down and kisses both of you, starved. it’s so warm and safe, you feel yourself slip further and further into their mold, the perfect pet they’ve been teaching you to be.
“you don’t… need to be out there.” rick drives it home, sweetening his tone to match michonne’s cooing.
“haah- shit, baby. we want you safe. here, jus’ like this.” he thrusts so you feel every inch, groove, every word he’s saying to you. “our sweet thing to protect, yeah? hhmph… mine. fuck, you’re mine.”
you’re gone. your back arches viciously hearing the rasp in his voice, the desperation. michonne works you through cumming your brains out, soothing you through every writhe, and rick’s continued motions. both their names and a series of thank you’s tumble from your mouth, seemingly all you can remember how to say now. their perfectly broken baby.
— authors note. hello! this is s6!richonne right before hilltop and. everything. am i crazy? freak4freak richonne is real we know this. this is like you approach them at a bar and say you really like their vibe. sorry for long open to the porn LOL but i really was fantasizing about this dynamic……. i am crazy. ty for reading !! 💗
tiny whimpers fill the air, heavy breaths mixing with fervent touches. hands running down your body, fingernails catching on your lover's skin. gentle thrusts and tacky skin sticking to each other like a lifeline. your eyes hold contact for just a second too long, seeing the contortion of pleasure on the face across from you.
crickets chirp outside the window, adding an anchor to the moment. a reminder that this was real, this was happening in a world that was moving despite the moment feeling frozen between writhing bodies. so dangerously uninhibited, so caught up in making love that no one else mattered.
"fuck me, please, just like that. you're so good, baby" the words dance in the air, so graphic and lewd.
carl grimes. enid rhee. daryl dixon. rick grimes. glenn rhee. michonne.
mike wheeler. steve harrington. will byers. eddie munson.
the rough creaking of the old bed frame, skin slapping like a melody. tightened grip holding you in place, clutching at pillows like a saving grace. erotic moans that filled any passerby's ears, so distant yet so close. stars fill your vision, pushing yourself as close as you can get to your lover. craving their touch, craving the pleasure of being used.
your mind can't focus on anything besides this, besides the feeling of being stuffed full over and over again. harsh red hand prints feverishly littering your body, a growl in your ear. nothing else mattered, not when you were getting fucked like a slut, not when you were teetering over the edge.
"yeah, y'take it so well. lettin' me mark you up all nice, honey." the tension tightens up, the craving of pleasure becoming so much more desirable.
ron anderson. merle dixon. shane walsh. negan smith. abraham ford.
max mayfield. hopper. billy hargrove.
Women who have hardened their hearts to survive. Whether it was done in childhood to live through endless hardships or in adulthood for work, it does not matter. The nurturing love society expects of her died long ago.
Women who strike fear into the very bones of men around them. They hunt down and eliminate their enemies like it is your primary nature. She out smarts any man in her way like they are a simple childs toy. The very art of fighting, of war, is simple to them.
Women who never gave love a passing thought. Love would surely only get in the way of their goals or their work. The very idea of having someone depend on them feels like a drain on their limited emotional grasp.
Women who don't understand why you make their heart race so quickly. Their gaze follows you aroubd the room, studying every movement you make. The sound of your voice makes their cheeks burn. A simple graze of your fingertips makes them feel faint.
Women who have no idea how to process your femininity. You handle tasks like planning gatherings, meals, and child caring like second nature. The way you handle task after task with such elegance and grace it makes them question if there is more than one kind of strength.
Women who truly don't know how to process falling in love with you.
pairing: rick grimes x fem!reader x michonne hawthorne
summary: something goes wrong on a supply run with michonne and rick, leaving it a little hard for you to suppress your deepest desires
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), scissoring, fingering, threesome, sex pollen (so dubcon because of that) (also it's not really pollen)
a/n: i wrote this for one of the sweetest ppl on this site @rigorwhoring. happy belated birthday bb, i hope you like it!! <33
The metal beneath your feet creaked with each careful step you took on the catwalk. You looked ahead and let out a sigh. The lab wasn’t too much farther away, but you were never fond of heights and this platform was dangling at least forty feet above the sprawl of computers and shelving units below.
“Why are we even here? Don’t you think the government would’ve taken everything useful when they jumped ship? Especially their supply of antibiotics,” you huffed.
“They were incompetent enough to let the entire country fall into chaos, so I wouldn’t guarantee that,” Rick said from behind you.
“Plus, it never hurts to look and be sure,” Michonne added.
You pursed your lips. You didn’t have to turn around to see the faint, teasing smile that was surely taking residence on her face. She got on you a lot about your impatience and impulsivity. And while you knew she had a point in trying to show you the value in being thorough, you never wanted to admit you had a tendency to overlook details.
“Whatever. I still think we should’ve just checked a normal doctor’s office first,” you said.
“It’s too bad you’re not in charge of making the plans then, isn’t it?” Rick asked.
Great. Now he was mocking you too. You shot a look over your shoulder and stuck your tongue out. The petulant move got you a quiet laugh out of both of them. Butterflies fluttered around in the pit of your stomach, but you tried your hardest to ignore them with a deep breath.
It was pathetic, your little crush. You tried telling yourself that every time you felt the nag of yearning well up inside your heart. Your feelings had been tormenting you for a while now. It seemed like forever given the malleable nature of time these days, but in reality it had only been since you arrived in Alexandria.
You weren’t sure what it was. Sure, maybe you had little mini crushes on Rick and Michonne before that, but they were barely there. Fleeting ideas that you never lingered too long on. Little bursts of joy when she’d bring you something special from a supply run or when he’d praise you for improving with your gun. It was never anything real, anything you’d actually spend time ruminating about.
But since the group had taken up residence in that apocalyptic suburb, you found your head filled with thoughts like those more and more. Your fantasies were no longer fleeting. That little seize in your heart had migrated South to become flutters in your belly or jolts between your thighs. And now that they were together? Now that you saw them being affectionate with each other right before your own eyes? Forget about it. You were helpless.
You tried to hide the way you stared when his hand casually rested on her waist or when their lips pressed together for a kiss that was always a smidge more than chaste. Not even sleep brought you a reprieve from your fixation. In the night, you’d dream of them. You’d imagine her slender fingers caressing over your shoulders and cupping your breasts while his tongue traced patterns down your stomach.
It was hellish quite honestly. You’d tried distracting yourself, looking around for someone else to fantasize about. But no one did the trick. No one captured your attention like they did. Every time you tried thinking about any of the other people around town, they’d invade those thoughts too.
With a sigh, you finally reached the lab door and shoved all those thoughts away. This was no time for daydreams. There could be walkers or worse in this next room, and you couldn’t have them thinking you were incapable if you seemed distracted…
The three of you stayed silent for a moment, trying to listen for any sounds of a threat, but none came up. The facility was just as silent up here as it was when you waded through the area below.
You took the liberty of trying the door first. Fortunately, it opened under the pressure of your hand. The locks in this place all seemed to be electric, and without power for the last couple years, the things they guarded were left vulnerable to whoever may come across them.
The room was empty like you’d hoped. There was no sign of activity, undead or otherwise. Cabinets filled most of the room. One wall was covered in refrigerated units, all of which were dark and room temperature now.
You walked in a couple of steps, and they followed behind.
“You take the left side of the room, Michonne and I’ll take the right,” Rick directed.
You nodded, taking the order without complaint.
Before starting your search, you pull out the crumpled note from Denise in your pocket. The exact name of the drug she needed was scrawled down in blue ink. You read it over a couple times. It would be your luck that you’d grab everything but the thing she wanted.
With the information in mind, you snaked through the rows of storage compartments. Lots of them had been emptied out. Either the people who worked here had loaded up before leaving like you said or other groups had come through and scavenged just as you were doing now.
Your eyes danced over the little labels on the containers. You grabbed a few things that weren’t on the list but seemed useful from the brief information provided. Unlike a doctor’s office or pharmacy, these drugs weren’t simply ibuprofen or tylenol. They all had long names that you couldn’t dream of pronouncing correctly. You assumed they were just like elevated versions of regular or prescription meds. Denise was the one to even tell you all about the place, so you knew they’d be good for something at least.
After a little more searching, you finally came across the small letters that spelled out the word you needed. You didn’t waste any time pulling the remaining tubes out and shoving them in your bag. Out of pure curiosity, you also glanced at the vials lined up next to them.
The liquid in them was bright, pretty pink. It looked almost glittery too. You had to know what it was. It was out of your control, the way you reached for one and spun it around between your fingers.
You just had never seen a drug that looked so… cute? Like something out of a cartoon. What could this even be for? It must have been in the developmental stages still. Or maybe it was like pepto-bismol on steroids or something. You had no clue.
The name on the label was just as confusing as the rest, completely meaningless to you. You read a little more and spotted the words experimental stimulant with some numbers below. That was vague, but you knew what both experimental and stimulant meant.
Having seen enough horror movies, you decided it would probably be best not to mess around with random substances from a government lab. You went to slide it right back into the little slot from which it came, but as your hand angled it, a loud slam came from the wall next to you. A groan came right after it, one of the haggard rumbles of death you’d become nauseatingly familiar with over the last couple years.
Panic surged through your body. You gasped and your hand jolted, ramming the vial against the holder and missing the slot for it. The glass shattered between the surface and your hand. Shards sliced into you. That pink liquid doused your skin and cuts.
But you didn’t care about that right now. Your mind was hyper focused on the possibility of a walker being nearby. You looked in the direction of the loud noise and saw one instantly. Its maimed face pushed up against the glass window on a closet door. The sight of it still left you pumped up on adrenaline; however, the thick glass barrier between the two of you made it a little less urgent.
It just stood there, shuffling against the locked door, jaw gnashing against the translucent pane it no longer could comprehend. You shook your head and let out a sigh.
Now the sound of footsteps came rushing towards you. Having heard the commotion, Rick and Michonne had crossed the room in seconds, his pistol drawn and her sword ready to make quick work of whatever threat you’d encountered.
They saw what you did as soon as they were close enough. Rick’s hand landed on your shoulder, startling you just a bit.
“You alright?” he asked. Even before you could get your answer out, his eyes scanned you from head to toe, making sure you hadn’t sustained any kind of injury.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you assured with a nod. “It just startled me, that’s all.”
Michonne, who had also been looking you over, reached for your wrist.
“You’re bleeding,” she said.
She lifted your hand, examining the blood that trickled from the wounds scattered all around your fingers and palm. You flexed your digits a bit to make sure no glass was lodged inside you still. Your skin stung with the movement. More drops of red oozed from the cuts, and she hissed in response.
“Do you think she’ll need stitches?” Michonne asked with a cautious look to Rick.
He took your hand next, his fingers just as careful as hers. After a few moments of inspection, he shook his head.
“Should be fine. We just need to get her cleaned and bandaged up soon,” he said thoughtfully.
A rush went through you as they spoke like you were something to be handled. Retracting your hand, you sheepishly turned away from the pair.
“I’m fine, really,” you said.
You looked down at the injury yourself. The main thing you noticed was how shimmery your skin was.
Shit. That vial you’d been holding obviously spilled on you when it’d cracked, and in turn, that pink mystery liquid had doused your open wounds. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That could be really really bad. You contemplated saying something to Rick and Michonne, but it wasn’t like they’d have an antidote to whatever it was either. All it would do is probably make them panic.
So instead, you pulled out a spare rag from your bag, intending to wrap it around your hand.
“Ah-ah. That clean?” Rick said as he saw the blue cloth come out.
“Yes,” you huffed with a small side-eye. Your displeasure was only external though. Inside, you preened under the show of care.
He smiled and shook his head at your attitude while Michonne came closer and wrapped her arm around your shoulders.
“Come on, let’s start heading back. Denise can look at it when we get home,” she said softly.
You were more than happy to lean into the touch and walk along with her out of the lab. Everything would be fine. You just had to last the hour drive back. Then you could see Denise and get fixed up or just sleep the little spill off.
As it had turned out, everything was not fine.
Like the trip here, you sat in the backseat of the Jeep while Rick and Michonne occupied the front. They spoke about plans for the group, future scavenging locations, different tasks that needed to be taken care of, and so on. You didn’t really know because you weren’t really listening.
In all honesty, listening wasn’t even an option right now. Everything around you was fast becoming a blur. Your head was cloudy and hot. It felt like the car was floating rather than rolling along the road. And worst of all your body was thrumming. As if each of your cells was lit on fire, your skin tingled and burned.
It started up a couple minutes after the car had set off, and by now, you could barely sit still. The ache started in your stomach — at first, you thought it was just a simple cramp. But the coil of pain grew tighter. And then it drifted further down and settled between your thighs.
You just couldn’t stop squirming. It was taking everything you had to hold yourself back from jamming your fingers down your shorts to try and rub it away. The night sky outside provided the cover you would need. Rick and Michonne were wrapped up in their own discussion up front. If you could just be quiet then maybe…
No way. What were you thinking? You blinked a few times, almost in disbelief with yourself. Something was going on. It had to be. That liquid must have done something severe to you. You would never consider touching yourself in such close proximity to other people — let alone Michonne and Rick — if you were in your right mind.
You just had to wait till you made it back. Then you could slink off to your room and fuck yourself stupid all night.
That was easier said than done though.
You could repeat mantras of restraint over and over, but the words didn’t satisfy your body’s hunger. That same ache pulsed within you, called to your fingertips, silently urged you to spread your legs. You let out a shuddery breath and looked out the window, attempting to quell your desire by subtly shifting your hips against your seat.
The tree patterns outside were growing familiar. It couldn’t be too much longer till the gate came into view and opened up to welcome you in.
Your eyes had just fallen shut when a call of your name grabbed your attention.
“What?” you responded, a little shocked by how breathy your own voice sounded.
You weren’t even sure which one of them had called for you. Rick was glancing at you through the reflection of the rearview mirror, and Michonne turned around in her seat upon hearing how off you sounded.
“You alright back there? We said your name like three times,” Rick said.
You bit your lip silently. It was hard to focus on what he was actually saying when his voice sounded so fucking good. All deep and gravelly, his tone light and almost fond for you.
“Um… yeah. I’m fine. Sorry. Just zoned out,” you answered.
“Are you sure?” Michonne asked. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized your features. “You sound out of breath. And you look it too.”
Your heartbeat picked up in your chest. She sounded heavenly too. Her voice was rich and soft, like the warmth of an embrace in the form of soundwaves.
“‘m fine,” you insisted. “You guys always worry too much about me.”
She continued to stare at you, not believing your excuse. You gazed right back in an attempt to appear normal.
“Fine-” she started, on the precipice of relenting. However, it was right then that the car drove over a bump.
And you let out a squeak that was dangerously close to a moan.
You couldn’t help it. The rear set of tires striking whatever was in the road had bounced you upward and brought you right back down on the seat, pussy first.
Heat seared a path up your neck into your cheeks. All you could hope was that it was quiet enough that neither of them noticed, but based on the look Rick was giving you in the mirror and the way Michonne’s eyebrows had risen nearly a full inch, that didn’t seem to be the case.
“Seriously, what’s going on with you?” she asked.
“Nothing! I was just… clearing my throat?” you said with a half-hearted cough.
“You were not.”
“Was too.”
“Do you need me to pullover?” Rick offered from the sidelines.
“Oh my gosh, no,” you said, bordering on a whimper. You slumped back in your chair and lazily wiped some of the sweat beading at your hairline. That sudden burst of pressure on your center had only made everything feel more intense.
“Then what’s going on with you? You look sick,” Michonne said. Her voice was firm, but you could tell the reason behind that was her growing concern.
“I just feel a little hot I guess…” you replied meekly. You had to look away now. The sight of her face affected you almost as much as her voice did. Looking at her only made you want to touch, and there was no way in Hell you were going to let yourself do that with the kind of thoughts running through your head.
She still wasn’t convinced by your excuse. “How long have you been feeling overheated? You know you could have rolled down the window if you wanted,” she said.
“Just… I don’t know. Since we left,” you said. You shut your eyes again and tried to resist the urge to squeeze your legs together.
“You weren’t bitten,” Michonne said. It wasn’t a question, but her eyes still trailed over you to be absolutely sure of the statement’s accuracy.
“No! I just… I-” you tried though you began to lose your words.
You were hot and breathless, and your mind was more focused on the onslaught of physical sensations rather than coming up with a believable lie. So you finally decided to just come clean.
“I just like spilled a little bit of something back in the lab… it must have gotten on my hand… it’s not a big deal,” you said.
The look on Michonne’s face begged to differ with your assessment. Her eyes were wide now too, her lips slightly parted as she processed the new information. She looked over at Rick, silently telling him to speed up the car.
“Really, I’m fine,” you tried again weakly.
“You don’t look fine. Why didn’t you tell us?” she said.
“I didn’t want you guys to panic…” you said.
But she was already climbing into the backseat. You scooted over to the corner diagonal from the passenger seat, as far away from her touch as possible. Now that she was back here too, you could smell her scent. Just as alluring as the sound of her voice, it had you feeling dizzy with need.
Before you could even hope to explain how you were feeling and why touching you was probably a bad idea, her hands were reaching in your direction. You shrunk back into the corner, your head clunking against the cool glass of the window. That wasn’t enough distance to stop her though.
One of her silken hands came to rest right upon your forehead. You barely managed to choke down the whine that was fighting its way up your throat.
“You’re burning up,” she said, her brows furrowing. “Did you see what it was you spilled? If it got on your hand, it’s probably in your bloodstream.”
“I don’t know the name. It said like… um it said… experimental stimulant on the label.”
That didn’t lessen her concern any. Her fingers trailed down your face, over your cheek. Your eyes fluttered, the glide of her fingertips like rose petals coasting across your skin.
“It’s fine, promise,” you said.
And then she reached your neck. At that point, it wasn’t fine for a whole other reason. You tried to bite down the moan bubbling up inside, but that only resulted in the sound coming out as a strangled whine instead.
You couldn’t help it. Her fingers on your heated flesh just felt so fucking good. And you were already using all your energy to keep your hips still and your hands obedient at your sides.
The car swerved a little when you let out your desperate cry. As shocked as Michonne was, she tried to maintain a sense of normalcy.
“… Did that hurt?” she asked tentatively.
You shook your head. Speaking wasn’t an option. You didn’t trust yourself to sound any less pathetic.
She wanted to help, that much was clear, but she was at a loss. You could all but see the sentence on her tongue failing to form.
“I just… It’s so fucking hot, and everything feels suffocating,” you whimpered, squirming in your seat.
That slight bit of clarity was the boost she needed to spring into action once again. She turned towards Rick for a moment and quietly requested he turn up the AC. This was really getting serious. Usually air conditioning was strictly off limits to not risk any mechanical issues with the car.
You barely had time to process that though because her hands came back at you again.
“Let’s get you cooled down a little, yeah? Strip some of these layers off,” she said softly.
Of course, that was a practical solution, but your ears registered it in a way that made your stomach clench with lust. Your panties were growing stickier by the second, only adding to your discomfort.
She went for your t-shirt first. You had a small camisole underneath, so that wasn’t really an issue. With her aid, you peeled it off with ease and chucked it to the otherside of the backseat. It helped a little. For a second, you thought you might be entering the clear. The relief was only temporary though.
Seconds later, that same heat began creeping all over your skin again. Your heart pounded and your head swirled just like it had before. If anything, exposing your skin only seemed to make the sensation stronger. Now the throb of desire in your belly was so intense it felt like cramping.
You tried to act as though you were just getting comfortable, grinding your center down on the seat below. It didn’t offer much pleasure, but it was better than nothing.
Unfortunately, it was enough for Michonne to see as well. You kept your eyes closed so that you didn’t have to see her reaction. While you would have much rather avoided humiliating yourself in front of them, that was no longer at the top of your list of priorities.
“Um… are you alright? Does your stomach hurt?” she asked.
“Uh-huh,” you whimpered without even thinking.
It wasn’t a total lie. You were getting so horny that it basically was painful.
“Do you need me to pull over?” Rick asked again from up front.
“No!” you cried.
You needed to get back to Alexandria as soon as possible. If you didn’t get some privacy soon, you were pretty sure you’d either combust or completely lose it and start rubbing one out right here in the backseat. Hell with the mood you were in right now, you might pounce on the first person you saw back home.
A few moments of silence passed over the three of you. You forced your body to still once more. Michonne and Rick remained completely bewildered, not having the slightest clue what to do with you.
“Talk to me,” she started over, tender but earnest. “I won’t panic, I promise. Did you see any side effects listed on that bottle? Do you have any idea what it might have been?”
“I swear I don’t know. All I saw was ‘experimental’ and ‘stimulant.’ That’s it!” you whimpered. You let your head fall backwards. “Oh god, what if this like really fucks me up?”
“That’s not gonna happen. Rick and I won’t let anything happen to you,” she said.
“But- but ‘experimental.’ That’s probably like really bad,” you replied.
“Everything in that lab was just trials of more intense versions of common medications. They were samples waiting for further testing. I don’t think it was anything deadly. We just have to figure out a way for you to ride out these side effects.”
Unbeknownst to her, you knew exactly how you wanted to ride out this whole thing. You just didn’t know how to say it.
“I… I just need to get back to my room. Need to be alone,” you said. You could feel that ache boiling within you again — the need to move, the need to touch.
“Why? Does your head ache? Are you getting tired?” she checked.
“No. Just need to be alone,” you repeated like you weren’t seconds away from humping the seat belt receptacle.
“Then why?”
“Causeeeee,” you started, your face growing impossibly hotter at how petulant you sounded. Finally, you couldn’t hold back anymore. “I think that shit was like female viagra or something, fuck.”
The car went silent again for a few seconds before you heard a soft chuckle come from the front seat.
“It’s not funny!” you whined, swatting a hand in Rick’s general direction.
You didn’t know how you expected them to react, but it certainly wasn’t with laughter. At least on the other hand, Michonne was still looking at you in earnest, like she genuinely wanted to help you.
“So that’s the problem? You’re feeling a little worked up?” she asked.
“Not a little. I’m like so fucking horny,” you whimpered.
This was horrible. The most humiliating day of your life by far if you excluded that one time you accidentally locked yourself in your cell at the prison. After this, Rick and Michonne would never speak to you again, you were sure of it. And honestly, who could blame them? It was your own stupidity that got you in this situation. Your carelessness could only be considered quirky for so long before it became annoying.
But then her hand was on your thigh. The gentle touch pulled you free from the clutches of your self-deprecation. It was your turn to have wide eyes and parted lips, merely watching in stunned silence as her fingertips petted little stripes onto your skin.
“Wha- what are you doing?” you stammered. Panic crept up your spine. That touch was only weakening your resolve. If she kept it up, you were confident you’d soak through your shorts within a minute or so.
She lacked your urgency though. Her eyes remained on you in silence, observing you with a look slightly kinder than a predator gives when assessing its prey.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” she said.
That was the only kind of explanation she gave you before her fingers continued their ascent up your leg. They found themselves at the button on your shorts. She paused for a second, essentially giving you the chance to reject her — something that didn’t even cross your mind.
When no protest came from you, she popped the little silver clasp free and nudged the zipper South.
Part of you wondered if maybe the vial had knocked you out and this was all some weird fever dream. There was no way it could be reality. You honestly were more inclined to believe that the world had ended when the dead started walking, and you were now in some state of purgatory.
Your eyes darted between her face and the back of Rick’s seat. “You- um- You don’t have to,” you forced yourself to say.
“Lift your hips.”
You swallowed down your hesitation. This was everything you wanted — everything you’d been dreaming of — and she was handing it to you on a platter.
Your hips boosted off the seat, giving her the room to tug your shorts down. She didn’t remove them completely. They only went down far enough to give her the room to carefully spread your thighs.
You could barely stand it, being examined like this, being under the scrutiny of her eyes without really knowing what she thought.
“Really, Michonne, I swear, I’ll be ok-”
“Will you? You’re so wet…” she said.
Before you knew it, the pads of her fingers dragged over the damp fabric of your panties. You yelped at the touch. Your hips bucked into the air from the ghost of movement.
“Poor thing,” she whispered.
Her fingers pressed down harder. They rubbed over your cunt with intention. At first it was just pressure, but soon enough, her digits found specific targets. She swirled them on your clit in tiny circles.
You didn’t even have the capacity to react. A raucous moan left your lips as you melted backwards. Your chest heaved, puffing up and down while her hand worked between your legs.
Again, you couldn’t help but feel like you were hallucinating. Everything felt hazy, like the environment of a dream. A bead of sweat ran down the back of your neck.
Her skin glowed with the faint reflected shine of the headlights on the path ahead. She looked like an angel, someone sent down from heaven just to relieve your body of the torturous ache that liquid had brought on.
The creak of the mirror up front drew you from your thoughts, made this whole thing feel real again. It came from Rick adjusting the mirror in an attempt to get a better view of the two of you. You supposed that was the best case scenario here, but it also confused you further.
“You know Rick and I always want to take care of you, right?” she said softly, answering your question before you had the chance to ask it.
“Yeah…” you breathed.
“So then let me take care of you,” she said. “You don’t need to feel embarrassed.”
Accepting that didn’t come easy. Embarrassment was the only other emotion you could feel right now besides horniness. But she kept coaxing you along with those tight swirls of her fingers on your sensitive bundle of nerves. So sensitive in fact that you already felt yourself getting close.
“You just relax, honey. We’re almost home,” Rick added from up front.
“See? Everything’s just fine,” Michonne cooed.
“But… but why? Why would you even wanna…?” you tried to ask.
“You act like it’s such a chore,” she teased lightly. “Why wouldn’t we want to help you? You need this. And you look even cuter than you normally do like this.”
You blinked a few times. “Normally do…?”
“Mhm,” she hummed, dipping her fingers down to your slit before bringing them back up.
You bit your lip. Her touch, her voice, her words, all of it pushed the concern right out of your head. You slid down a little in your seat, angling your hips to get more friction from her hand.
“There you go. Good girl,” she praised. Her fingers rubbed a little harder now, deeming that you could handle it.
Your head tilted back again and another long whine poured out of you. Release snuck up on you faster than it ever had before in your life. Only a few moments later, you were quivering violently and coming undone under her precise fingers.
It was one of the strongest climaxes you’d ever felt. That sparkly pink serum must have done a number on your nerves. You could barely hold still, and you couldn’t keep quiet at all. You mewled and squirmed around all over your seat. Arousal gushed from you, coating your inner thighs along with her hand and the seat below you.
All you could do as you came down was pant. Harsh breaths left your lungs in rapid succession. It was odd, feeling so drained from so little stimulation. However, despite the physical exhaustion, you were nowhere close to sated. The release had felt great, but it didn’t get rid of that ache at all. If anything, you felt more out of it than before.
Without thinking, you reached forward and grabbed the neckline of her shirt. You tugged her in, crashing your lips onto hers in a kiss.
To your absolute relief, she didn’t pull away. She stiffened for a moment out of surprise and then let herself give in. Her plush lips moved against your own. You both began with a series of small, exploratory pecks before a languid swipe of her tongue brushed against your mouth.
Of course you let her right in. You opened up for her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to bring her impossibly closer.
Everything else faded to background noise. The world became just you and her. You and her skilled hands cupping your hips. You and the quiet sound of her moaning into your mouth. You and her hips slotted right between your thighs.
“Gate’s coming up,” Rick said from up front, popping your bubble of bliss.
Michonne pulled off first to your dismay. You tried to follow her, but she stopped you with a hand on your chest.
“Shh, calm down. You just have to keep it together for a few more minutes. Just till we get away from the others, alright?” she said.
Reluctantly, you nodded along.
“Good,” she said. She pulled your shorts back up onto your hips and buttoned them into place again. Your shirt stayed on the floor of the backseat. Your camisole would be fine covering for the small distance between the street and the house.
The car slowed down a bit, and you heard the metallic roll of the gate sliding open. Rick waved at someone, though you didn’t care to look for who exactly it was. He drove down the street a bit, parking it close enough to inventory that it wouldn’t take too long to unload.
“Can you walk?” Michonne asked, regaining your attention.
The question took a few seconds to process in your mind. “Um… yeah. Yeah. I can walk,” you said.
Soon enough, you felt the finality of the car going into park. The engine went silent next. Rick pulled the key out of the ignition and got out. You heard him talking outside, but you couldn’t make out the words or the other voice.
In front of you, Michonne began guiding you out from the other side of the car. The two of you slipped out onto the sidewalk, avoiding conversation with whoever was checking with Rick about the findings of this run.
Michonne wrapped an arm around you and began walking towards her and Rick’s house. You could only be thankful she shielded you from any questions or the task of unloading the car.
Seconds later, you heard a pair of footsteps approaching behind you. Dread set in that you might have to survive a short conversation with someone before getting to cum again. But before you even had the chance to look, Rick was by your side, wrapping his arm around you too.
The cool silver of his watch hit your shoulder, drawing an audible moan from you.
He grinned, amused just like he had been in the car. “So sensitive,” he murmured with a kiss to your head.
“It’s not my fault,” you said, rubbing your face.
You’d walked the route to their house dozens of times, but right now, it felt like your feet moved on their own, like without their guidance you’d be lost. Maybe it was a good thing they’d realized something was wrong after all.
When you reached their porch, Rick helped you up the stairs while Michonne dashed ahead to get the door. The house was empty. Judith and Carl were staying with the others since no one knew how far into the night the supply run would stretch.
The three of you went inside. You would have been fine with heading over to the couch if it meant getting relief faster, but they herd you up the stairs in the direction of the main bedroom. If this had been happening under any other circumstances, you probably would have been out of your mind with excitement rather than hazy with drug-induced lust. But you’d take what you could get.
Once you were in their room approaching the bed, Rick took the liberty of laying you down. Your eyes closed as your back hit the softness of the mattress. Lying down felt better than walking around, but you were still just as dizzy.
“You still with us, sweetheart?” Rick asked.
“Mhm,” you said, your head bobbing in a lazy nod.
Two hands caressed up and down your legs while another set of fingers tugged down your shorts for the second time tonight. This time they came all the way off, leaving your panties completely exposed.
A whistle came from Rick. “You weren’t lying. She’s soakin’ through,” he said.
Now your tank top was moving up, revealing your stomach. You garnered that Michonne was the one taking off your clothes while Rick continued to massage his hands over your legs and hips.
No matter how many layers left your body, you were still hot as ever. Your bra came unclasped, but the air on your tits didn’t make you feel any cooler. Your panties slid down over your legs, but a light sheen of sweat still coated most of your body.
There was a brief pause. You could hear the rustling of fabric, probably them ditching some of their own clothing. Then the bed dipped with their combined weight, one of them on each side of you. You forced your eyes to open and look at them.
Rick’s hand cupped your jaw before he ducked in and kissed your neck. You moaned, pleased by the sliver of stimulation it brought you. Down below, Michonne’s hand splayed across your stomach. You wasted no time in trying to shove it lower.
She obliged you some. Her fingers delved between your legs without any barrier in the way. They stroked through your wetness, over your silky folds. She dragged them over your clit gently, providing the most minuscule amount of pleasure.
Your back arched up off the bed. You needed more. It felt like you were burning alive, being held just inches away from the nearest water source.
“Fuck, please,” you whined. “I- I can’t- Need more-”
“We got you. Don’t worry, baby,” Rick murmured.
Your eyes squeezed shut again. His lips traced a path along your jawline onto your throat. Your neck bent in his direction as his short facial hair scratched against your sensitive skin. His hand came up to one of your breasts, squeezing the mound of flesh enough to get more little sounds out of you.
He so thoroughly consumed the upper half of your body, you didn’t even notice Michonne’s weight shifting between your legs. You didn’t realize what she was doing until you felt her tongue lick over the length of your pussy.
A sharp squeal burst from you, but her hands kept you in place. She dove in, sucking on your clit, flicking her tongue back and forth over the little bud. You were helpless to it all, resigned to lie there and take it.
“I can’t believe this is really happening,” you panted.
“Yeah?” Rick chuckled from beside you. “Have you thought about this before?”
You nodded. There was no reason to be shy anymore.
“You should’ve said something, honey,” Michonne said from between your legs.
“What was I supposed to say? You guys are like… a couple. I can’t just come up and say ‘oh I think you’re both totally hot, wanna fuck?’” you whimpered.
She smiled and shook her head while sliding two fingers inside of your cunt.
You moaned and clutched at the sheets. Penetration felt the best out of anything so far, like it was the thing that came closest to scratching the itch inside of you. Her fingers still weren’t enough, you wanted more, faster and harder.
“We’ve been thinking about you too, pretty girl,” Rick said. “Why do you think we let you tag along with just us? Why do you think we’re always taking care of you?”
“I don’t know…”
He kissed your neck some more, mumbling against your skin. “We’ve been thinking about you too, on this bed, spread out like this.”
“Moaning and whining for us like this,” Michonne continued for him.
She pumped her fingers in and out while her tongue danced in little patterns over your clit. Your legs squirmed over her shoulders, your toes curled. You could feel yourself getting close again.
“You guys should have told me,” you whimpered.
“We’re telling you now, aren’t we?” he teased.
That hot, sparkling heat grew stronger in your belly. Your noises became higher in frequency. You were cresting, about to reach the peak. She gave you a few more pumps before removing her fingers entirely.
It was enough to bring tears to your eyes. Your body seized, and your thighs clamped together.
“Why?” you whined.
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she crawled up your body to lay at your side while Rick slid down to kneel between your legs. In this position, you could see his cock between his legs, nice and flushed for you. He stroked it a few times while inching closer to your center.
You felt the tip nudge at your entrance, and you hissed. Your hips rolled, trying desperately to get any amount inside of you.
“Patience, sweetheart,” he rasped, but he indulged you nonetheless.
He filled you up in a slow slide. His hips pushed his entire length into you with one steady thrust. Your eyes rolled back. You honestly might have cum right then, it was hard to be sure when you felt so high up on cloud nine.
A deep groan came from him too. His hand splayed across your lower stomach, giving him leverage as he sank into you.
“She’s so fuckin’ soft,” he said. His other hand gave your thigh a sharp squeeze. “So fuckin’ warm.”
“That’s just what you need, huh?” Michonne whispered into your ear. She laid some kisses on your neck, the side Rick hadn’t tended to.
You nodded lazily. Your head was spinning as he started to thrust. It began as shallow rocking, simply getting a feel for the right rhythm. But once he settled in, you were gone.
You arched your back with a breathy mewl, your eyes fluttering shut. You clutched at Michonne’s arm, the sheets, his hand — whatever you could reach.
She kept kissing along your neck. Her fingers caressed over your chest, stopping a few times to toy with your nipples. After a little while, her mouth drifted down to replace her digits. She wrapped her lips around one of your stiffened buds and flicked her tongue across it.
“Fuck,” you whined. You practically lost the ability to speak when her fingers drifted down South to rub at your clit in tandem with Rick’s thrusts.
It would be obvious to anyone in your position that they were together. They worked as a team, their movements in sync without a spoken word between them. You’d seen them like this on supply runs, in fights; it made sense they’d be like this in the bedroom too.
And you weren’t complaining at all. Maybe it was because you were being affected by that drug, but you didn’t have to do a thing right now. You just got to lie there while their fingers and mouths worked on you.
Rick slammed into you particularly hard as Michonne’s mouth left your nipple. The sudden jolt nearly tossed you over the edge for a third time that night. You couldn’t remember ever cumming so easily. It left you wondering when this shit was gonna wear off. Not that you were really minding it as much when you had two people willing to help relieve you.
She rose up onto her knees and kissed Rick. You watched through fluttery eyelashes as their lips melded with one another. His hips didn’t stop pumping. Her fingers had drawn away from you, but only to give some attention to herself. You could hear her soft noises of pleasure coming out muffled against his lips.
When she pulled away from him, they were both looking down at you. It felt as though you could evaporate under the heat of their combined gaze.
“Are you close again, baby?” she asked, her fingers caressing your leg.
You nodded wildly, more than ready to cum.
“Go ‘head, honey. Whenever you’re ready,” Rick grunted.
In no time at all, you really were hitting the high again. Hot waves of pleasure crashed into you. Unshed tears leaked from your eyes, choked cries fled your lips.
Rick couldn’t last any longer either. Your walls were squeezing him, coaxing him to the peak right alongside you. He barely managed to pull out. You whined as you watched the warm, pearly white fluid hit your stomach.
You knew it was for the best that he didn't cum inside, but your fogged up brain couldn’t help wanting whatever would feel best in that moment.
When he was spent, he took a breather. He didn’t make a move, just took a second to close his eyes and bask in the afterglow. Michonne looked you over, assessing whether or not you seemed to be in better shape.
And in a way you were. The three releases they’d given you helped a substantial amount. But your body was still warm. Not as hot as before, but the simmer was still there.
“You got a few more in you, baby?” Michonne asked.
“Mhm,” you hummed weakly.
She nudged Rick aside, taking his place. As he laid nearby on the mattress, her fingers wrapped around your ankle. She lifted one of your legs into the air and slotted herself precisely so that your centers aligned.
“Just let me know if it starts to be too much,” she said before lowering herself down to grind against you.
It wasn’t too much, not even close. Her rutting against you was just what you needed. The perfect follow up to Rick. Your eyes closed again as you let yourself get lost in it, the feeling of her slick cunt against your own, the sound of her airy moans drifting around the bedroom. It was almost enough to take you out of your body.
You didn’t know exactly when you came. All you could register was that you did finish once if not twice, and that she had too. At some point, Rick had rejoined to stroke along your jaw and neck again. It was all just the best kind of blurry.
The three of you went at it until you were barely capable of moving anymore, when you were sure that the effects of that serum were starting to fade and let you be.
You lied between them, body limp and eyes half-lidded. Michonne was to your right and Rick took up your left, both of them pretty exhausted as well.
“Do you feel better?” she whispered in your ear.
“Mhm,” you said weakly.
Silence overtook the room for a few minutes more. Only the sound of breathing could be heard. Your mind was beginning to return to its full, lust-free capacity. Thoughts began forming without the background buzz of desire.
“‘m sorry that I got that stuff on my hand and that you two had to like… do this,” you said. It was a weak apology, especially since you had so obviously enjoyed yourself, but you still felt obligated to say it.
“Don’t worry about it,” Rick said. “I told you we didn’t mind. Not at all.”
“Really, you don’t have to feel embarrassed, baby. It was just like a little push towards something we wanted,” Michonne added with a faint smile.
You nodded. In a way it was true. As awkward as things had been at first, overall you couldn’t say you were too mad about the results the pink serum provided. If only it had made it through testing before society collapsed. It probably would have been a hit.
You started to sit up. “I can sleep back at my place if you guys want. I don’t wanna cause any more trouble,” you said.
Both of them stopped you. Rick with a hand on your shoulder and Michonne with her arm across your waist.
“There’s no need to go runnin’ off, sweetheart. Just relax. You don’t have to worry about anything. We’ll get you cleaned up in the morning. It won’t be a thing,” he said softly, easing you back down.
Michonne nodded in agreement before nuzzling at your neck. “And tomorrow we can talk about maybe doing this again sometime when you’re not overwhelmed by any outside interference,” she said, lightly teasing.
And that was all it took to get you back down, completely pliant between them.
